Kinetica's Contributions
by TheSecretSister
Summary: Margaret York wasn't expecting to find anyone like her, let alone a telepath in her own University. After years of friendship, watch as she joins Charles, Raven, Erik and the first class of mutant X-men in their fight against Sebastian Shaw. With loyalties straining and relationships growing, who will she choose in the end? Charles/OFC
1. Chapt 1: Are you Jealous?

**First chapter to Kinetica's contributions! I hope you guys enjoy it but please don't expect weekly updates. I do this for fun and I'm sorry if it takes me months to get this out, but you know that's the way it is sometimes.**

 **Enjoy though!**

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"He's infuriating." Margaret turned to her younger companion beside her, a smirk playing on her lips. She grabbed her glass of red wine from the glossy wooden pub table in front of her and sipped the bitter liquid delicately before putting it back down again. She followed the blonde girls line of sight and focused on the young man at the bar. "It'll be hours before I actually get my drink now."

"Oh, come now Raven," Margaret smiled. Raven shot her a sly glare from the side of her eye, hiding a smile on her pretty face. "If he doesn't flirt with the students in the pub he'll never find himself a girlfriend, let alone a wife." Raven couldn't help the laugh that escaped her throat, shaking her head slightly at the woman beside her.

"We should mess with him," Raven offered, sipping her almost empty glass of cola. "I heard about that one anyway, she's a bitch."

"Raven," Margaret warned, looking at the girl. "Rumours are rarely true."

"Oh please, she totally looks bitchy," Raven argued, a hint of jealousy in her tone. Margaret merely rolled her eyes ad downed the last of her wine before standing swiftly. "What are you doing?"

"Messing with him," Margaret smiled, fixing her brunette hair in her reflection in the window behind Raven. The men drinking under it were smirking and eyeing her up, but she ignored them. "I need another drink, a soda for you was it?"

"With a splash of vodka," the blonde joked and Margaret merely shook her head.

"Mutant and proud." Margaret watched as the clinked glasses together, but slid up beside Charles with a confident and flirty smile on her face.

"Seems like I found my people," Margaret smiled. Charles almost choked on his pint beside her, getting a fright when she came up and wrapped an arm around his. "And who's this, Charles?"

He didn't want to look at her because he knew she'd make him laugh, instead he kept his eyes on the bar as he introduced the co-ed to Margaret, instantly forgetting the poor girls name.

"Margaret this is…" Charles looked up at the blonde university student expectantly, an apology in his eyes.

"Alice," she said finally.

"Right, Margaret this is Alice," he said, waving his hand between the two. "And Alice this is Margaret York." Margaret grinned brightly as her hand shot out to shake hers. Alice took it carefully, a small and awkward smile on her own face.

"Oh, Charles," Margaret said, putting on an air of idiocy. "You left Raven and I parched to death over there." He finally turned to look at her, suppressing his laughter with a shaky smile. She returned to look before turning to Alice in front of them. She looked beyond awkward, but still tried to keep up with the conversation.

"So, you have a 'mutation' then," she smiled, steering Charles and Margaret back to her. "What is it?"

Margaret looked at Charles, her eyebrows raising as she began to speak. With a peek into her mind he seen what she was going to say.

"Well, dear Alice, I can-" Charles elbowed her in the side, causing her to yelp suddenly and laugh it off as if she just sneezed. Poor Alice was looking beyond confused at the whole thing.

"What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?" Charles and Margaret turned to Raven who strolled up behind them. Charles looked exasperated, while Margaret was still trying to hold in her laughter. "I'm Raven."

"Alice," she said, nodding her head slightly. The Co-Ed squinted her eyes as she looked at Raven, a small smile coming to her face. "Charles, she has heterochromia too."

"What?" Raven turned to Charles with an innocent smile. Charles sighed softly and threw a tired glance to Margaret before pulling out his wallet to pay for the drinks. "Get your coat Raven."

After a quick and overly dramatic goodbye to Alice, on Margaret's part, they left the pub. Margaret hurried after Charles as Raven struggled to get her coat on behind them. Margaret was still laughing softly.

"Relax, Charles," she said behind him. "We were only joking with you." He stopped in his tracks then and turned to her, swiftly, fixing his scarf around his neck. Raven caught up to them then, her leather jacket finally fixed on her body.

"You two did that on purpose," Charles accused, pointing at the both of them before continuing to walk ahead of them. Raven rolled her eyes as Margaret walked behind him again, taking his arm and turning him back to face them.

"We did not!" Raven defended, looking at Margaret. "Okay, maybe Margaret did it on purpose but that was just to mess with you." Margaret nodded in agreement with a shrug. "But you know I can't control it sometimes, like when I'm stressed or tired."

"Well you seem to be doing a pretty good job with it now," Charles muttered, turning again to walk away. Rather than stopping him, they followed on either side of him. Raven left out a tired breath.

"Mutant and proud," she mumbled, putting on a mock british accent. "Or is that only for pretty mutations, or invisible ones like yours or Maggie's?" Charles sighed beside her and stopped again, turning to look at Raven finally with a tired look in his eye. "If you're a freak you better hide!"

"You're being ridiculous," Charles scoffed. He looked at her directly then, shaking his head. "Look, I don't mean to sound like an old fart-"

"Which you are," Margaret and Raven declared in unison.

"Sometimes," Charles grumbled. "But we've talked about this before, Raven. A small slip up is one thing, a big one doesn't bare thinking about." Margaret looked at Raven, who gave her a short glance before sighing softly in defeat.

"Fine, fine," she said, throwing her hands up in surrender. "You're right." Charles nodded proudly then before continuing on ahead of them. Margaret linked her arm with Raven's, strolling slowly behind him. "She was pretty freaked out though. Well done, Margaret."

"Mutant and proud." Charles and Margaret glanced at one another from their seats. She relaxed in the large armchair while he sat hunched over his desk, fixing some minor errors on his dissertation. "Mutant and proud?" There was a silent pause before Margaret heard her spit out the toothpaste in her mouth. "If only."

Margaret turned the page of the book she read, hardly paying any attention to Charles or Raven as she relaxed into her chair. She's become so used to being in his flat that they were used to her being there too, sometimes would even find it odd not to turn and see her sitting in the same leather armchair she sat in now.

"Would you date me?" Now that got her attention. Margaret shut her book with a dull snap and eyed Raven curiously. Charles didn't even look at her when he answered.

"Of course I would," he said, scribbling some note onto a page in front of him. Raven sighed and glanced at Margaret, who shrugged her shoulders at the blue-skinned girl. "Any young man would be lucky to have you, you are stunning."

"Looking like this," she said finally. Charles looked up then and his eyes went wide as a quiet "What" fell from his mouth.

"Bl-Blue?" Raven's eyes fell to the floor then, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "You're my oldest friend."

"I'm your only friend," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Not true," he said defensively. "I have Margaret."

"She's only your friend so you'll buy her drinks at the pub," Raven sighed. Margaret smirked from her seat, shrugging when Charles looked at her. "Well?"

"I'm incapable of thinking of you like that," Charles argued, picking up his dissertation and moving to the sofa beside Margaret. "I feel responsible for you, anything else would just feel wrong."

"But what if you didn't know me?" Raven asked, moving to stand in the middle of the room. Charles sighed as he flipped the page of his hardback, opening it up to his desired page.

"Sadly, I do know you," Charles said before shaking his head with confusion. "I don't know what's gotten into you, you're awfully concerned with your looks."

Raven turned to Margaret with a sigh. "What about you?"

Margaret glanced at Charles who turned his attention to their exchange. Margaret shrugged at the blue girl.

"If I was a man, or even if I was a woman who was attracted to women, I'd be happy to date you," Margaret smiled. She stood up then and took the younger girls face in her hands, pinching her cheeks. "You're far too adorable to pass up, my dear." Raven swatted her hands away with a whine and Margaret and Charles laughed at her discomfort. The blue skinned girl shot a harmless glare towards Margaret before she sighed and dropped onto the sofa beside Charles, leaning her back against him.

"I'm sleepy," she said. "Will you read to me?"

"I can't I have my thesis coming up, I have to study," Charles sighed. Raven scoffed a laugh.

"Then read that, your thesis always sends me right off." Margaret grabbed her coat off the back of the armchair she sat on and plucked her shoes up from the floor. She crossed the room then, pulling her short heels onto her feet with a smile as Raven shut her eyes slowly.

"I'll leave you two, then," Margaret said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to each of their heads.

"You'll be at my presentation tomorrow, yes?" Charles asked, struggling to turn with Raven lying against him. Margaret smiled has she turned to latch on the door.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," she said. "Goodnight, Charles."

"Goodnight, love. Safe home." She smiled softly as she shut the door, snapping the latch shut behind her. She threw up the collar on her coat and set off home, using her powers to keep the rain from falling onto her.

….

The crowd chanted and cheered as Charles downed the large, oversized glass of lager. Margaret and Raven cheered from the front, clapping and chanting along with the rest of the drunk patrons. After tipping his head back with the glass, Charles finished the drink and let out a victorious roar while everyone applauded his effort. He stumbled down off the chair, which Margaret helped him down off.

"I'm so proud of you!" Raven exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck. Charles laughed heartily, pulling back and swinging the glass back and forth with a chuckle.

"I need another drink and you need another cola," he said, a smile on his face. "And a glass of wine for Margaret." She nodded her head happily, letting go of his arm as he stumbled off towards the bar with a smile.

Raven and her sat down at the table again, pulling up the stools that were pushed to the side to allow room for the small crowd he had gathered. Margaret turned in her seat, furrowing her brow confusedly when she seen Charles moving to take a seat with another woman.

"Raven," she said. The blonde girl looked at Margaret then, turning in her chair to look were she looked. "Who is that? She doesn't look like his usual conquests." Raven turned back to Margaret then with a sly smirk on her lips.

"Are you jealous?" Margaret looked at the girl with confusion then.

"Of course not!" she said, a bit too defensively. Raven chuckled at her reaction but Margaret tossed a cardboard coaster in her direction. "You irritate me. Honestly, she looks far too serious to be taking him seriously." Even though Raven had stopped paying attention to Charles and the woman, Margaret watched as his body language changed considerably. He raised two fingers and rested them on his temple. He was reading her mind, she realised.

When she seen him straighten and the woman's expression become very serious and professional, Margaret knew something was going on. She watched as they both stood, shook hands and walk away from one another. The woman left the pub then, leaving Charles to walk back over to their table.

"Charles?" Charles looked down at Margaret, noting the confusion and nervousness in her expression. Even without telepathic abilities, Margaret knew when something was wrong with Charles. "What's wrong?"

"We have to go," he said suddenly. The two girls looked at each other quizzically, before standing and throwing their coats on over their dresses. They followed Charles out of the pub, struggling to keep up as he hurried in the direction of his flat.

"Charles! Tell us what is going on," Margaret urged, stopping him when she grabbed his arm. "What happened?"

He had a small smile on his face, an excited one. She had never seen him like this, as giddy as he was.

"Margaret," he said, grabbing her forearms and staring at her with bright and excited eyes. "There's more of us. I always knew there had to be more, and there is." Margaret's own face broke out into a smile and she began shaking her head in disbelief.

"Are you sure?" Raven asked beside them. He turned to her then, breaking away from Margaret. He nodded with certainty then before walking away from them. "What are we going to do then?"

"We're all going to go pack," he shouted from where he was. Margaret and Raven exchanged a curious look with one another. "We're going to America."

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 _Oxford, England. 1959._

"What are you doing?" Margaret looked at her long-time friend through her vanity mirror. She applied her lipstick lightly, fixing the already applied red stain that smudged slightly in the centre of her lips. After she pressed her lips together to spread the colour and blotted them lightly with a tissue, she turned on her seat to smile at him.

"I'm going out, Charles," she said, standing and walking by him to sit on her bed. "I have a date." Charles eyed the girl curiously, his brow creasing slightly as he stared at her. Margaret didn't have to be a mind reader to know he was confused. He knew she rarely dated, and when she did she wasn't exactly excited or happy over it. Usually her dates were set up by other friends or her mother, but this one was different. "I met him in a pub down the road. He walked me home."

"You met him in a pub? Do you even know this bloke?" Charles asked, arms crossed and father-like stance equipped, the one he would usually use when scowling Raven for staying out late or not calling him if she was going to be late.

Margaret rolled her eyes at him and leaned down to fish her shoes out from under her bed. "No, Charles, I do not." He noticed they were her expensive shoes. She wore them when she met his parents the year before, hoping to impress them with her pricey heels. "That's the whole point of going on this date. To get to know one another." After a forceful tug she had her heels on and she stood up to face him, standing a little taller than him now thanks to their height. "Remind me to take the key to my flat off you, too. You're using that key far too liberally."

"But who is he? Have you even seen him before?" Charles pestered. Margaret watched him closely, furrowing her brow suspiciously.

"Why do you care so much?" she finally asked. Charles was shocked into a short silence as he tried to think of something to say. He didn't actually know why he felt so protective over her. It wasn't the same way he was protective with Raven, no, it was different.

"Well, because…."

"Because?" He looked at her as she crossed her arms and waited for an answer from him, eyes like daggers as they glared at him suspiciously.

"Because you don't know him! He could be Jack the Ripper for all you know!" he protested, causing Margaret to throw her arms in the air in frustration and brush past him.

"He only killed prostitutes, Charles," she said. She paused then and turned to face him slowly, her eyebrow raised. "Are you calling me a prostitute?"

"What?! No, of course not," he sputtered defensively. Margaret looked at him accusatorily for a moment before turning again and grabbing her handbag from the small table near the kitchen. "You know what I meant, Margaret. And I really don't think you should go out with this man."

A knock sounded from the door, causing both their heads to snap in the direction of it and freeze in their spot. Before Margaret could stop him, Charles sprang into action and hurried towards the door before her. Margaret grabbed and pulled at his navy jumper to stop him, but he was too quick for her. After quite the struggle, Charles fell into the door and finally swung it open.

"Marg- Oh." Charles and Margaret's date stared at one another in silence for a moment. "Is uh, Margaret in?" he asked awkwardly. Charles eyed the man, his mind rooting through his head instantly. He was well dressed, the mind read thought to himself, just as Margaret was. An expensive restaurant, Charles thought.

Even though Charles remained silent as he fished through the man's mind, Margaret rushed over and pulled the door from Charles' hand, opening it wider.

"Peter! Come in, please. I'm sorry about my friend," she smiled, allowing Peter to walk in past her and Charles. Before she continued speaking to Peter, she shot Charles a _Get out of his head_ sort of look. Charles ignored her request however.

"Xavier. Charles Xavier," Charles said, a rudeness to his introduction. "And you are?" He shot out his hand for Peter to shake, which he did after a brief pause.

"Peter Baxter," he greeted, a polite smile on his face. He was handsome, which didn't surprise Charles, Margaret wouldn't have gone out with him if she didn't find him physically attractive as well as emotionally. Margaret had slipped into her bedroom however, but both men hardly noticed as they seemed to be sizing one another up, or at least Charles was. "Xavier… I've heard that name before." Peter dropped his hands as the realization dawned on him, pointing a well-meaning finger at him. "You're that bloody genius, aren't you? I hear some of my mates talking about you at the pub."

"Only good things I hope," Charles said, good naturedly. Peter's eyebrows rose, suggesting they weren't all good things. Charles gave him a tight lipped smile, deciding to fish deeper into his mind. He was examining his memory of meeting Margaret, how he annoyingly called her Maggie and how he bought her another drink, even if she had already drank well over her own personal limit. He had noticed however that she was laughing and enjoying herself in this man's company, how she touched his arm and fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously.

"Sorry about that." Both men turned quickly towards Margaret, who stood with her hair finally curled and moved away from her face with a pin. Her makeup was simple, but the red lipstick added a touch of elegance to her look. The dainty and fake pearl necklace her mother gave her hung close to her neck, with her expensive dress her mother also bought her and her expensive heels on her as well to finish her look. "I had to finish my hair."

Margaret felt a pang of… _something_ in her gut when her eyes didn't fall on Peter, but on her mutant friend standing beside him. Was it guilt? She should have felt guilty for not admiring the handsome half-stranger the same way he was admiring her, but she wasn't sure. But Charles was looking at her the same way. Luckily, Peter hadn't noticed.

"Wow, Maggie, you look amazing," Peter said, leaning down and giving her a soft peck on the cheek. _Rather forward,_ Margaret thought to herself. "We should head now if we want to make it on time." Margaret nodded softly, finally pulled out of whatever haze she felt there for a second. She turned to Charles, pulling him in for a tight hug and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, using her thumb to wipe away any lipstick that stuck there.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, smiling softly at him before taking Peter's arm and following him out the door.

A knock came from his front door.

It was late, very late in fact. Raven was fast asleep in her own room, but Charles was still up editing his presentation he was to do the week after. He got up from the leather sofa in the sitting room, focusing on the mind outside. He furrowed his brow at the head he found himself in before unlocking the door quickly and swinging it open.

"Wasn't Prince Charming after all, then?" Margaret rolled her eyes at him. Her heels were held in her left hand and her lipstick was smudged slightly. She brushed past him and let her heels fall from her hands, but her power let them fall slowly and softly, knowing that Raven would be asleep at this time. Her coat was pulling it's off of her, even while she used one hand to take her earrings out. Charles watched and followed silently as the coat hung itself up on the hooks beside the door where other coats were thrown haphazardly. Margaret threw herself down onto the couch with a sigh.

"I thought he was going to be…. Alright, you know?" she mumbled. "He was alright, wasn't he?" Charles sent her a sure and confident "No!" from the kitchen near the living area, where he prepared two cups of tea. "I mean he was nice enough. He was handsome, well dressed and from what I gathered from the girls he was rich enough too with and good-ish family." Charles returned to the sitting room and handed her a mug, before sitting beside her on the sofa.

"What happened?" he asked. She sipped gently from the mug, careful not to burn herself so it was a few seconds before he got his answer. After a pained face from the heat of the tea, she answered him.

"It was going alright. Although, he did keep saying I seemed distracted, which was pissing me right off," she said, using her free hand to animatedly tell her story along with her words. Charles watched silently. "We went to a nice restaurant and then we went for a dance, the usual. But as he was walking me home, he was getting very…. Handsy." Charles would've loved to punch him. "He pushed me against a wall and it was very dark, you see, so no one seen us. He was kissing me and I kept saying no, no this is disgusting but he carried on and-"

"Oh, Margaret, did he do something?" Charles asked worriedly. After another sip of her now cooled tea, she shook her head.

"No, I'm fine. He, however, got flung into a wall," she sighed, shaking her head tiredly. Charles smirked beside her. "He was fine though, he was breathing after I kicked him in the gut and ran." Charles couldn't hide the grin on his face then.

"So, no more dates with Mr. Baxter, then?" he asked and she shook her head in response, ending the conversation. After a moment or two of silence and tea sipping, he asked, "Why were you distracted?"

"Hmm?"

"Why were you distracted? You said you were distracted all evening," Charles stated. He was genuinely curious, but didn't want to snoop in her mind for the answer. Margaret stared ahead for a moment, knowing the answer already but not wanting to tell him. She fidgeted with the hem of her dress for a second before answer him.

"Oh, no reason. I was just thinking about how bad of a date it was," she laughed, awkwardly. Charles noticed her sudden shift in behaviour but didn't say anything as she stood suddenly, placing her tea on the table in front of her. "Do you have any biscuits?"

Charles watched over the sofa as she padded quietly into the kitchen and standing on her tiptoes to look into the cupboards. He didn't want to, but he wasn't happy with the vague and suspicious answer he got off her, so he peeked into her head. And it confirmed what he was secretly hoping to find.

Throughout the whole course of Margaret's evening, she wasn't thinking about how much of an arse Peter was being to the staff at the restaurant or how his hands ventured lower than she would have liked while they dance. No, her thoughts were on someone else entirely. And that was her mutant friend sitting on the sofa in the room opposite her.

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 **Thanks for reading and please, review, fave, follow, do whatever!**


	2. Chapt 2: Sudden Introductions

**Hope you like this one!**

 **And thank you to the two who reviewed the last chapter, I really really appreciate it. And for you guys who followed and favourited this story, it really does men a lot to me.**

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The flight to Washington D.C. was long and tiresome, but Agent Moira MacTaggert informed her British guests that her director would like to meet Charles as soon as possible. Which meant that Margaret had to go without a nap. She was on the edge of exhaustion at this stage.

"Excuse me, Agent MacTaggert," Margaret asked as she hurried along behind her and Charles. They led their small group, leaving Margaret and Raven to trail along behind them. "But will this take long?"

"However long the director needs us, Miss. York," the agent replied, her eyes scanning over some paperwork in her arms. Raven glanced at Margaret, who had quite the tight-lipped smile on her face as she stared at the Agent's back. But she was worried and nervous about this meeting. Her hands were beginning to sweat and she could feel her stomach fill with the worst kind of butterflies.

"Charles," Margaret said, grabbing his sleeve and stopping him in his tracks. He turned to her suddenly, noting her worried and somewhat frightened expression. He glanced at Moira and Raven, telling them to go on without them and that they'd follow. "I don't know about this. I think we should rethink this for a moment or…"

Charles took the woman's hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. She inhaled deeply and shut her eyes, trying to push away the sudden anxious grip that held her chest.

"What I'm saying is that I'm afraid something bad will happen. We don't know this Moira person, nor do we know how those somewhat powerful men in there will treat us once they realise we aren't exactly one hundred percent Homo sapiens," she finished in a hurried breath, taking her hands away and placing one on her sweaty forehead. This stressful situation had finally gotten to her, and the realisation that those men will most likely have a bad reaction to their "condition" had her panicking. "What if they lock us up? What if they take Raven away from us?"

Charles watched his friend for a moment as she had her small and understandable breakdown in the middle of the government facility. She took rapid and short breaths as she stared at Charles, her face red from the embarrassment she felt for the sudden panic attack.

"I won't let them touch either of you, Margaret," Charles said, pulling the panicked girl into an embrace. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder and nodded her head softly, inhaling deeply as she fought against her stomach flutters. She pulled away and let out her breath, nodding her head softly but hardly meaning it as she brushed past him and finally followed the other two women into the meeting room.

After Charles' presentation for the agency's directors, Margaret shot him an encouraging smile as he sat beside her. She looked at the two directors to her right, upset to see them sharing tired and uninterested looks with one another. She furrowed her brow as she glanced back at Charles, who shook his head softly at her unspoken question and rather unpleasant comments about both men.

"MacTaggert, you really think some crackpot scientist is gonna make me believe in sparkly dames and vanishing men?" the head director asked, his tone less than impressed with the female Agent. "You just bought yourself a one way ticket back to the typing pool. This meeting is over."

Margaret was about to open her mouth and give those two men a stern talking to before Charles told Agent MacTaggert to sit back down. "I didn't really expect you to believe me, given that all you could think about during my presentation was what sort of pie they were serving in the commissary." Margaret looked at both of the directors quite smugly as Charles informed them of the Apple Pecan pie that was available for lunch. "You see one of the many spectacular things my _mutation_ allows me to do is that I can read your mind."

"I've seen this at a magic show. Are you going to ask us to think of a number between one and ten?" Agent Striker joked, watching Charles curiously. Charles smirked and shot a glance at Margaret, probably hearing the less than lady-like words that she was thinking of.

"No, Agent Striker, although I could ask you about your son, William, which is very nice," Charles began. "But I think I'd rather ask you about the Jupiter Missiles America is currently placing in Turkey."

That certainly caught their interest.

"You brought a spy! He's a goddamn Spy!" the director shouted at Moira, sparking a loud shouting match between all the agents in the room.

Margaret looked at Charles with worried eyes but he merely took her hand, patting it lightly to relax her. He knew she wanted to show them this wasn't a trick, that they were the real deal when it comes to human evolution. But before she could do anything herself, Raven shot out of her seat and transformed into Agent Striker right before his very eyes.

Silence filled the room as the American's all stared at Raven, who remained calm as she stood in place as Agent Striker. Margaret squeezed Charles' hand nervously as she eyed each CIA Agent, growing more anxious as they continued to only stare with mouths open at Raven for a long, long time.

"How's that for a magic trick?" Charles declared, as a wave of blue ripples transformed Raven back to her natural blue skin. Margaret gripped his hand even tighter as the directors seemed to grow angry, frightened even as they looked between Charles, Raven and then, finally, Margaret.

"And what, can you teleport or something?" Agent Striker asked angrily. Margaret felt her heart beat a million beats a second as she turned to look at Charles for guidance. Should she show them?

After a soft and encouraging nod of his head, Margaret turned back to the two men. Even though she had qualms about showing them her power, she trusted Charles with this. He was one of the few she trusted when it came to the subject of her powers.

She lowered her head slightly, focused her eyes and her mind on the files and stationary in front of them. One at a time, each file and pen began to raise slowly off the table, hovering slightly in front of them. They glanced at one another with uncertainty before she let them fall back then with a dull thud.

"Best damn magic trick I've ever seen," the man in the black suit said from behind the two directors. Margaret looked away from the two head agents, pulling her hand away from Charles' and clasping them together on the table. She always hated showing people her powers. It never bothered her when she needed to grab a magazine off a table but was too lazy to get off the sofa to get it in her own flat, but when she was put on display like that, as if she was a bloody magician, she felt anxious. She felt afraid.

"I want them out of here." Margaret's head snapped up again and she stared with wide eyes at the two agents. "And locked down until I can figure out what to do."

"My facility is off site," the man in the black suit announced. "I'll take 'em."

…..

"Margaret, please you need to calm down."

Margaret paced back and forth in the large board room. All the CIA agents had left the three mutants, the Man in Black (or M.I.B, as Margaret had taken to calling him) gone to get the car to bring them to his facility.

"Charles I can't calm down," she said, wringing her hands to stop them from shaking. "I knew this would happen! I knew it! They're going to… Oh, I don't know what they're going to do!" Her breathing was erratic, but she stopped pacing all the same when she felt Raven's hand take her own. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Mags," Raven said softly, patting her hand lightly. She was still in her blue form, smiling up at the telekinetic with her bright, yellow eyes. "But we'll be fine, okay? We'll be fine."

"I'm just worried," Margaret said softly, she said when she sat beside her blue friend. She inhaled deeply before nodding her head softly. "I'm sorry, I'm alright. I'm alright."

Charles watched Margaret worriedly, and she knew for a fact he was in her mind trying to find a way to calm her down. And even though she knew his intentions were good, she told him to bugger off out of her mind and to focus on what was going to happen to them. With a soft chuckle from Charles across the table, he did as he was told and peeked into the mind of the M.I.B and the other agency directors.

After a few moments of snooping around the CIA's top operatives, the trio of mutants were being escorted towards the parking garage by the M.I.B. As he spoke to them about how he knew about mutants all along, or some such nonsense, Charles was informing Margaret and Raven of the plan.

They were to find this Sebastian Shaw, a man with connections to a mixture of mutants and the plan of nuclear war. Margaret felt so far out of her comfort zone, she was sure she was dreaming all of this, but sadly the look on Charles' face said it all and she knew that this threat was very, very real indeed.

"I always knew there were people like you," the M.I.B continued, Margaret not paying much attention as she strode beside Charles, her hand shoved deep into her pockets. "I've been the laughing stock of this agency for years, but I knew it. You're going to love my facility."

Just as he finished his gushing over his facility, a sleek and shiny black car pulled up in front of them.

"That's going to have to wait," Charles smirked. The M.I.B looked positively flabbergasted. "Agent MacTaggert has a lead on Sebastian Shaw and if we don't act now, we might miss him." The M.I.B stared at Charles confusedly, a muffled "wha" falling from his mouth as the telepath pulled open the door.

"Not only can he read minds but he can communicate with them as well," Raven announced, flicking her now blonde hair over her shoulder and opening the back door and sliding into the backseat without a fuss.

"Quite the nuisance, actually," Margaret smirked, earning a soft chuckle from Charles. She slid into the backseat beside Raven, smiling at the female Agent in the driver's seat.

"That's incredible!" the M.I.B announced, completely in awe of the telepath before him. "But I can't let you go anywhere without permission from upstairs."

"Would you like to see one more magic trick?" Charles asked, getting an eager nod from the M.I.B. Charles smiled and pressed two fingers to his head. "Get in the car."

"Okay, then!" the M.I.B agreed against his will, climbing into the backseat without another word. Charles shut the door after the agent before climbing into the front passenger seat.

"Buckle up," Moira announced before revving the engine and speeding out of the parking garage.

….

There was a bitter chill in the air as the coast guard's ship powered towards the Caspartina, the yacht owned by Sebastian Shaw. Speedboats surrounded the vessel, speeding ahead of the larger ship filled with agents and other CIA operatives. The larger ship switched on their fog lights and fired fiery red flares into the air, using a bullhorn to announce their presence to Shaw and his minions.

"This is the U.S Coast Guard," the announcer declared. "Do not attempt to move your vessel!"

"Who's there, Charles?" Margaret asked. She watched Charles eagerly, pulling her coat closer to her when she felt that irritable chill. He had his fingers pressed to his head, focusing entirely on the group of mutants on the yacht in front of them.

"There's three… no, four mutants," he said. He tried to focus again, but focused mainly on Shaw's mind. After a few silent moments of intense concentration, his face began to drop into a frown. "I've lost Shaw…There's something blocking me."

"How is that even possible?" Margaret asked confusedly. Charles tried to focus again, tried with all his might to try to pierce the barrier the other mutant had created.

"I think there's someone like me on that ship," he replied. "This is incredible, I can actually feel her inside my mind. I'm very sorry but I don't think I'm going to be much help with you tonight, you're on your own."

"What about her?" the M.I.B asked, pointing at Margaret. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked at the agent. "You can still use your powers, right?"

"Well, yes, of course I can but…" Margaret began, shaking her head nervously. "I don't know how."

Before the male agent could reply to her, a figure stood on the Caspartina. Margaret squinted her eyes for a better look, and she could just about make out the two swirling vortexes he held in his hands.

"Oh my god," Charles mumbled beside her.

In almost a split second, he sent the wind swirls powering towards the speedboats. Without a second to think about it, Margaret's hand shot out from where she stood, sending a short burst of energy to stop the wind from attacking the speedboats. It acted as a force-field, protecting the men in the speedboats from a near-fatal accident. The sound of it leaving her hand echoed around them, and Margaret dropped her hand as quickly as she raised it.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" she shouted, covering her mouth and stepping away from the railings. "I didn't mean to, are they okay? Oh god, Charles, did I hurt them?"

"No, no, Margaret," he laughed, grabbing her by the forearms. "You saved them, you did wonderfully!" She shook her head, looking over his shoulder at the Caspartina once more. Moira joined them by Charles side, being ushered back by the M.I.B.

"We need to get inside!" he urged, using his hands to push them towards the doors down into the bowels of the ship. Charles took Margaret by the hand and led her down ahead of him, but stopped when he felt a piercing pain in his head.

"Stop!" he shouted. "Agh!" Margaret looked at him, searching his face for whatever was hurting him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"There's someone else out there," he announced. Without another word, he spun and ran out onto the deck of the ship again. Margaret followed him instantly, followed by the two agents. When they looked out over the water to the Caspartina once more, it's giant and heavy anchor was beginning to raise from the waters. "There!"

After a heavy pause, the anchor was flung down towards the yacht, taking out the large chimney first before circling around again. The chain wrapped around the top of the ship, before it began ripping through it as if it was nothing. The anchor itself had disconnected from the chain then once it reached the end and flew into the water with a giant splash. Debris was strewn all over the docks and the waters surrounding.

"Bloody Nora," Margaret mumbled, completely and ashamedly in awe of what she just witnessed.

There was a quiet moment when nothing happened. Everyone paused as they watched the waters surrounding the Caspartina. But then they saw it. A dim light floating beneath the water as a submarine moved quickly beneath the ocean surface.

Margaret squinted her eyes when Charles began shouting for someone to "Let it go". After a moment of blurry vision, she seen him. A man, floating behind the submarine, his arms outstretched as he tried to stop it from moving anymore.

"You've got to help him!" Charles shouted at the agents behind him, still urging the man to let the submarine go. As he continued to shout, the man disappeared beneath the waves and was gone from sight. "We have to help him!"

Charles darted from the railings and after a second of confused staring, Margaret chased him down once she realised his ridiculous plan.

"Charles, you cannot be serious!" Charles didn't answer her, instead he tossed his coat in her direction as he ran down one of the long pathways. "Are you mad?! You could drown! You both could drown!" She plucked his scarf off the ground as she dashed after him. "Charles." His shoes then. "Charles!" He reached the end of the pathway before glancing over his shoulder. "Charles, don't you dar-"

He leapt off the ship and dove under the water. Margaret dropped his items and peered over the side of the railings, gasping and shouting his name as she looked for her idiotic telepath.

"Charles!?" she shouted, cursing her bad eyesight as she peered out onto the dark ocean. "Oh my god! Charles!?"

"We're over here!"

She felt her heart soar once she heard his shouting from the water not far from where she stood. She looked around frantically for something to help him, but was happy to see one of the speedboats rushing towards him and the mysterious, anchor-throwing man. Margaret plucked his discarded clothing from her feet and rushed to where the boat was returning to the larger ship, a dozen men rushing around with blankets for them.

"I'll bloody kill you, Charles Francis Xavier!" she shouted, pushing past sailors and grabbing a blanket from their arms. "Have you gone absolutely mad?!" Charles was dripping wet when she found herself in front of him, in a very sorry state after being tugged along for so long. She tsked and threw a blanket over his shoulder, rubbing his arms to heat him up.

"You didn't expect me to let him die, did you?" Charles asked, reminding Margaret of the other gentleman behind her.

"And you!" Charles sighed when his friend turned from him towards Erik, the brunette glaring dangerously at the mutant. "Have you lost your mind?! You could have died! Who are you?! Who is he?!" she turned to Charles then, pointing at the still dripping Erik.

"Margaret, that is Erik Lehnsherr," Charles said, wiping his face with the woollen blanket. Margaret had turned back to the dripping wet mutant, shaking her head angrily as she stubbornly tossed another blanket around Erik's shoulders. He was only in a wetsuit, after all. "Erik, this is Margaret York."

Both mutants stared at one another, Margaret glaring at him as she tossed Erik a towel as well after giving him the blanket. He stared at her confusedly for a moment, watching as she mumbled worried words about the man she knew very well and the man she knew nothing about.

 _What the fuck is she doing?_ Erik thought to himself. Charles chuckled in front of him, Margaret folding his coat up and tossing it to him angrily. She continued to mumble profanity about the fright the two men had given her, shaking her head as she fussed over some of the others agents who were in the speedboats. She needed to keep busy after that or she'd throw a fit at Charles for not thinking things through.

"Honestly, she means well," Charles said amusedly, laughing when Margaret shot him a terrifying and angry glare. "She's like us." Erik eyed the woman suspiciously, suddenly finding her far more interesting than he had a moment ago. What could she do then, if she hung around with a telepath?

" _You frightened the life out of me, Charles Xavier_ ," Margaret thought aloud. Charles looked at his friend, an apologetic look in his brown eyes as he watched her fret over some of the agents she saved in the speedboats. She handed out some more blankets for the few who had fallen into the water, realising she hadn't stopped everyone from falling from the quick, little boats. No one was injured however in this small mission, just cold and wet.

Margaret looked at the telepath again, a tense look on her face when she seen his apologetic look.

" _I am sorry, love,_ " he said to her mind. She nodded her head slowly and smiled at him, turning back to one of the shivering speedboat agents.

* * *

 _Oxford University, England. 1956_

Winter had officially set in. Margaret could see her breath in front of her as she hurried along down the path, tightening her scarf slightly and pulling her coat closer to her. There was no snow, but she could feel the icy bite in the air and knew it was on the way. She was one of the very few students left at the University during the Winter break, but in her mind she was checking off items on her mental list as she prepared for her trip back home.

She stood outside her accommodation building, fiddling awkwardly with her keys even though her fingers felt almost frozen. She struggled with her shivering hands as she tried to pick them out of her pocket, but stopped when she sensed someone standing behind her.

She spun around quickly, clutching her chest when she got a fright.

"Oh!" she said, laughing slightly as she stared at the sudden stranger. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." She smiled awkwardly and showed her keys. "My hands are so cold I can barely use my keys, I'm sorry if I'm taking so long."

"Take your time," the gentleman said behind her. She watched him for a moment before nodding with a smile. "People would usually be on their way home for Christmas at this stage." Margaret had turned back to face the door and continued to unlock the door.

"I'll be heading off soon," Margaret informed him with a smile. She opened the door and held it to let him in behind her. "I'll be heading home on the train this weekend."

"Are you close with your family?" Margaret eyed him oddly. Such a personal question, she thought, but even so, she couldn't help but answer him vaguely.

"I like to think so," she said warily, narrowing her eyes as she watched him. She studied his face, noting his recognisable features. He was very handsome, she wasn't about to deny that, and the smirk that appeared on his face made it obvious that he knew it himself. His striking blue eyes caught her attention and focused on her own brown ones, catching her off guard for a moment.

He followed her towards the stairs. She stood up on the first step and turned back to face him, eyeing him distrustfully.

"Not enough to tell them about your powers, however."

He had to have seen her. Just two days ago she couldn't help it but her powers had made an appearance _._ The library had been silent and empty, except her and a few others but she was alone at the study tables. A large pile of books was beside her, shielding her from the rest of the library but after finishing one and reaching for another, the books wobbled and almost toppled from the table. She had stopped them from crashing on the ground.

"What are you talking about?" She clenched her fists nervously as she stood before him in the foyer of the student accommodation building. He noted her defensive mannerisms, her clenched fist and her flushing cheeks.

"You don't need to be so nervous," the stranger said, raising his hands to try to calm her down. Noting her flinch at his movements he dropped his hands again, trying to keep her as calm as possible. "I understand what you're going through. You're not alone."

She couldn't believe this. He was making fun of her, he had to be. She stood in place and didn't move, not a muscle, as she thought about this odd situation.

How could he possibly know? Maybe he had seen her in the library, but she was sure she was on her own in that section.

How could he know about her not telling her parents? She had no answer for that. She had no answer for any of this, if she was being honest with herself.

"I'm not going through anything," she said finally, sounding so sure she could have fooled herself. She stood her ground and feigned confidence as she squared her shoulders and crossed her arms. "Now, if that's all you have to say to me Who-Ever-You-Are, I will be leaving you." She turned on the balls of her feet and began up the stairs, almost running up them to get away from this psycho.

"Your father's name is Patrick York, your mother's name is Mary. You are Margaret Elizabeth York, named after your grandmothers and you have four siblings." She froze. "You are the eldest out of all of them. You were thinking about your youngest sister, Jane, before I came over to you. She seems very lovely, you dote on her quite a lot ever since that little _accident._ " She turned again to face him, shock and confusion evident on her now pale face.

"Who are you? How do you know all of that?" she bit out. She was angry at him, which caught this stranger off guard slightly. He made a move to step up to her, but she narrowed her eyes viciously at him, stopping him again. "Tell me who are you."

"My name is Charles Xavier," Charles said with a polite smile. She raised a brow and eyed him.

"I knew you were familiar," Margaret scoffed. She rolled her eyes and seemed to relax then, crossing her arms. "You were snogging my mate in the pub last weekend." She threw her arms up and started up the stairs again, before stopping again and facing him again. "Shirley told you all that, didn't she? I'll kill her, that girl can't keep her mouth shut."

"It wasn't… Shirley," he said, trying his hardest to remember this "Shirley" girl, but was pulling a blank. "I knew all that because of my powers." She still had that look of disbelief on her face but another peek into her mind told him she almost had her. "I'm a telepath." She crossed her arms, still wavering on the line between belief in his powers and belief in the fact that he might be mental. "And I know you have a power of your own. You can manipulate things with your mind. Move a cup closer to you to reach it or even stop a pile of books falling onto the floor in the middle of a silent library."

He had her.

"What do you want with me, then?" Her arms tightened around her, almost as if she was trying to protect herself from whatever he was doing. It wasn't working, obviously.

"I don't want anything from you, Margaret," Charles began, stepping towards her. She was considerably taller than him as she stood two steps up from him, his forehead just reaching her crossing arms from where he stood. "I just want you to know that you are not alone. And that you don't have to learn how to control them on your own, I can help you if you wish."

She bit her lip as she pondered his words. If he was telling her the whole and honest truth, then perhaps she could take him up on his offer. She could keep them controlled to a certain point but sometimes, on the rare occasions, she could sense the stray mug or book floating in the room she would be sitting in. It scared her, and after the incident with her sister the first time she began to realise her powers, she was always on edge when it came to her powers. She felt dangerous.

"You are not dangerous, Margaret." She could feel tears pricking at her eyes and she dropped her head as she remembered those harsh and hurtful memories. Her poor sister had been in the hospital for weeks after her accident. All because of Margaret.

She lifted her head slowly to look at him, Charles taking another step up the stairs until he stood directly in front of her. She didn't flinch when he moved towards her then, and he took it as a sign of her accepting his words.

"You're not alone, Margaret." Margaret couldn't help but smile softly, shaking her head at the realisation. "And you never will be, I promise you."

* * *

 **I started college this week but I will try my hardest to get a little bit of this written as much as I possibly can, but like I said in the last authors note in chapter 1 I do do this for fun and in my own time. I'm glad you guys understand.**

 **Thanks again for everything and I hope you enjoyed it. Review, Fave and Follow if you did!**


	3. Chapt 3: You're Delusional, Patrick York

**Hope you enjoy this!**

* * *

Margaret stared out the window of the small CIA jet they had boarded not long after they had docked the Coast Guard ship. Raven was waiting patiently on the docks, beyond surprised to see Charles dripping wet and Margaret fuming. She had since calmed down from the event, but was finding it hard to sleep as they travelled back to Virginia, to the covert CIA facility.

"Are you alright, Margaret?" She turned her head to see the telepath sliding into the seat beside her. She sighed softly and nodded her head, not pulling away when his hand found hers. "I didn't mean to frighten you, love." She rested her head against the back of her seat as she continued to look at him.

"I know," she said, patting the top of his hand with her opposite one. "I know. I'm sorry for losing my mind so quickly, this whole situation has me on edge. I feel like I could lose you at any moment." Charles furrowed his brow slightly and she shut her eyes at her phrasing. "You or Raven. I don't think I could handle that."

"I told you I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe," Charles said, a serious and righteous look on his face. She couldn't help but smile, releasing a light laugh.

"You can't promise that, love," she replied, shaking her head softly. "As much as you'd like to, if something happens it will happen anyway. So, we shall continue with this top secret mission of ours and stop Sebastian Shaw once and for all." She leaned forward and glanced at the sleeping Erik Lehnsherr. "Let's hope we can give that man some closure, if it is revenge he wants on this man."

"How do you know he wants revenge, then?" Charles asked, smiling at her as she sat back and watched her.

"I mean, it is quite obvious. You don't try to stop a hundred tonne submarine just to have a cup of tea with the bloke on board." Charles agreed with a laugh, nodding his head. She had forgotten about her hand that was still holding his, but her thumb brushed over his knuckles softly as she chuckled beside him. "Do you know why he wants this revenge, though? Surely you had a poke around his mind." Charles nodded softly but didn't answer her. "The sort of tale that should be told from the horse's mouth, I reckon?" Another nod answered her question. "Then I will respect his privacy. Not that I am not bloody curious."

"Perhaps you could ask him," Charles suggested. Margaret shook her head quickly, her softly curled hair bouncing on her shoulders.

"Oh, no," she replied. "I don't think he and I would get along. We both seem far too stubborn."

"Well that is true," he laughed. She rolled her eyes but let out a laugh of her own as she settled into her seat, resting her head on his shoulder.

"But since you were apologising for your attempted suicide," she sighed, fixing her head on his shoulder so she could get a comfortable angle to rest her head. "You can act as my personal pillow for the remainder of this flight. Moira never gave my poor mind a chance to have a rest, so you all owe me this." Charles chuckled softly, causing his shoulder to shake lightly and she glared up at him. "Stop moving, telepath."

"Goodnight, love," he said, placing a kiss on the top of her head before resting his cheek on her hair, shutting his eyes to get some much needed rest as well.

….

"Welcome to my facility." Margret squinted as she looked up at the modern and grey building. The M.I.B seemed rather proud and pleased as he led the mutant team into the entrance of the state-of-the-art facility. "My mission has been to find the application of paranormal powers in military defence."

"Or offence," Erik added, watching the M.I.B behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Margaret glanced between him and the M.I.B trying to gauge his reaction but the agent ignored him.

"This guy, Shaw? Schmidt? Whatever you want to call him, he's working with the Russians," the M.I.B informed. Margaret couldn't help the roll of her eyes.

 _Of course he is,_ she thought. Charles glanced back at her and she merely shrugged her shoulders.

"We might need your help to stop him," the M.I.B finished, looking at each mutant directly.

"So are we to be the CIA's new mutant division, then?" Charles asked.

"Something like that."

The M.I.B led the small group into a large airplane hangar that was sectioned off. A lab was squared off and a large scale-model of an intricate and powerful looking jet hung from the ceiling. Margaret circled the creation with wide and curious eyes, moving her hand to touch the wing.

"It's supersonic," a voice said behind her. She pulled her hand away and was greeted with a very young looking man in a lab coat walking towards them. "The most advanced plane ever built. You should see it in real life, it's incredible."

"I'd say so. It's lovely," Margaret mumbled, a small smile on her face. The young scientist smiled as she moved away from the model to get a better look at the model. "My dad was a plane mechanic, he would've loved to see this."

"During the war?" Margaret nodded at the scientists questions.

"He trained there and loved it so much he carried on with it," she told him, glancing at the scientist with a smile. "You built it?" The scientist nodded softly, almost shyly. Margaret smiled brightly at him before shaking her head. "Incredible work, truly incredible."

"Margaret here had a keen interest in mechanics before she went to university," Raven smiled, rolling her eyes jokingly. "Once you get her going, you'll never get her to stop." Margaret sent the girl a mock glare but she only replied with a proud smile.

"This is Hank McCoy," the M.I.B said, before turning to the small group of mutants beside him. "These, Hank, are the special new recruits I was telling you about. Hank here is one of our most talented, young researchers."

"How wonderful!" Charles grinned, walking towards the boy beside Margaret with an outstretched hand. Hank took it gratefully. "Another mutant already here, why didn't you say?" The silence that fell upon the group had the pieces click together in Margaret's mind and all she could do as shake her head.

"Oh, Charles." The M.I.B looked at Charles confusedly, a "what" falling from his mouth ignorantly. Charles finally realised his mistake when he turned back to look at Hank.

"I am so, so very sorry," he said sincerely. Hank looked worried now that his secret was finally out but the M.I.B just looked confused.

"Hank? Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, moving towards his researcher. The young scientist merely shrugged his shoulders.

"You never asked, so I never said," Hank mumbled, looking anywhere but his superior. Margaret patted the young man's shoulder and he sent her a thankful look.

"So, what? Your mutation is that you're super smart?" Raven asked, moving towards the small group surrounding Hank. Margaret looked between the two, a small smirk appearing on her face as she seen the smile on Raven's and the one on Hank's.

"I'll say, I graduated Harvard at the age of fifteen," Hank said, a proud look on his face. Margaret was still obsessing over the obvious attraction between the two young adults. Raven was very particular about the men she chose to like, so this look was a very rare and welcome thing for Margaret to see. "I wish that's all it was."

"You're among friends now, Hank," Charles said. "You can show off." Hank looked reluctant as he pondered his options. He seemed to fight with his conscience but after a brief and heavy pause, he moved away from the group and crouched down to untie his shoes.

The group gathered together to watch as he kicked off his shoes and removed his socks, revealing two large and animal-like feet. Margaret eyed the feet curiously, while Charles beside her did the same as he tilted his head slightly to the side to get a look at them. Raven just seemed impressed. Both agents however were shocked their colleague had hidden this for so long.

"Splendid," Charles laughed. Margaret glanced at him with a half-smile when Hank began to walk towards the hanging jet. He looked at the group and by his command they all took a step backwards.

In one quick motion, he had flipped himself into the air and clutched onto the small jet with his feet, hanging freely and swinging slightly from the scale. The whole group laughed impressively at his display, Margaret giving him an impressed applause.

Raven moved over to where he was dangling, Margaret watching them both with a brilliant and happy smile.

"You're amazing," Raven told him, earning a blush and a shy smile from the intelligent mutant.

Margaret nudged Charles and shot him a knowing glance, trying and failing to withhold her excitement about Raven's attraction. Charles tried his hardest to ignore his younger sister flirting with the smart scientist.

….

Margaret had changed and unpacked her bag after being led to her personal room. The small bed was far from comfortable but it was usable in Margaret's eyes. She had a full length mirror on the back of the door into her room, where she checked herself. She had pulled on some black cigarette pants and a plain black sweater. She felt very agent-like, if she did say so herself. She pulled on some short-heeled leather pumps before leaving her room, travelling down the hall as she searched for the kitchen.

She was in desperate need of a cup of tea.

After finding the kitchen, she settled down atop the barstools at the high counter and slowly nursed a cup of tea she had made.

"I'm sorry I haven't gotten a chance to speak with you yet, Miss. York." Margaret turned in her seat, looking towards the door where Moira McTaggert stood. Her short hair was pulled into a ponytail, her bangs sweeping just above her eyes. She was in some sweats, so she must be like Margaret and finding it hard to sleep.

"Agent McTaggert," she greeted, a smile on her face as she pulled out a stool for the agent. "Call me Margaret, please."

"Only if you call me Moira," the agent smiled and Margaret nodded with her own smile. Margaret offered her a cup of tea but Moira asked for coffee instead, so Margaret set to work making her beverage for her. "I'm sorry I was so short with you at the C.I.A, Margaret. My bosses manage to stress me out so much I can become mean."

Margaret waved a dismissive hand as she stirred the agent's coffee, before placing the mug in front of her. "Don't worry about that, Moira. I know exactly how that feels. Trying to work among men who think they're better than you simply for having a penis is quite a pain," Margaret laughed. Moira stared at her wide eyed for a moment, almost choking on her coffee. Margaret grinned at her and raised a brow as she sipped from her tea.

"I would have thought you British would be more-"

"Classy?" Margaret smiled. Moira shrugged. "Well, Charles may be a lot classier than I, but I wasn't raised in a wealthy family. I lived in a very middle class family in Essex when I was younger. My grandparents were well off though, so I managed to get into Oxford through them. I learned some etiquette among the fancier students there, but not much from the looks of things," Margaret smiled softly as she recalled her past.

"Do you speak to your family regularly? Since before all this even started I've always found it hard to keep in touch with my own family," Moira confessed. Margaret shrugged her shoulders and downed the last of her tea.

"My dad passed away in fifty-seven, so it's just my mum and siblings, but yes, I do speak to my family often. As often as I can now, anyway," Margaret sighed, Moira catching a sadness swim in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, that must have been hard for you," Moira offered. Margaret smiled gratefully but shrugged her shoulders again, brushing it aside.

"It was, my siblings weren't as old as me so I was comforting them more than anything at the time," Margaret replied. "He was a terrific man, though. And I do have the memories of him anyway, those I can be grateful for."

A short and heavy silence fell over them, the only sound breaking it occasionally would be Moira sipping her coffee. Margaret went about cleaning her mug and putting it away, cleaning the counters she had been using too to keep herself busy.

"When did you meet Charles and Raven?" Moira asked suddenly.

"Just before Christmas in 1956," Margaret smiled. "I met Raven the February after that because I was terrified of meeting Charles' family." Moira smiled softly as she listened as Margaret recalled her first meeting with Charles, and her brief and awkward one with Raven. "It took Raven and I a while to get used to one another, but by April we were practically sisters. I love that girl."

"You all seem very close," Moira agreed. Margaret nodded. "You and Charles particularly."

"Are we gossiping now, Agent McTaggert?" Margaret said, an amused smirk playing on her lips.

"I thought I'd test the gossip waters," Moira laughed. She had finished her coffee at this stage, and Margaret took it to clean that too. "You don't have to do that you know, there are cleaners."

"It keeps me busy," Margaret smiled. "But yes, Charles and I are very close. We have been since I went back to college after that Christmas, he's my closest friend." Moira furrowed her brow at her for a moment, something clicking in her head.

"Wait, so you two aren't together?" Margaret stared at her for a long moment before laughing suddenly.

"What? Of course not!" Margaret laughed, shaking her head. "What gave you that idea?"

"Well, you two are just very… Never mind," Moira laughed. Margaret raised her brow, urging her to carry on. "The way you act around one another, I just thought you two were closer than friends. I'm sorry for making assumptions."

"Don't be sorry, I suppose we only have ourselves to blame." Margaret lifted her arm up and she glanced at the watch on her wrist, reading the time. "It's getting late and I am exhausted after these last two days. Goodnight, Moira. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Margaret."

If Margaret was being honest with herself she wanted to get out of there because she was embarrassed. If Moira had made that assumption, then who else had? It wasn't a secret to Margaret herself that she fancied Charles, but she thought it was just childish behaviour on her part. She was comfortable around him, very comfortable, and the way they acted was how they acted forever. But….

Margaret had been lost in her thoughts as she wound her way around corners and straight into the chest of a man. With a loud "Ooff!" from her, she looked up to stare at him. It was Erik, leather jacket on and briefcase in hand. Margaret eyed the briefcase oddly.

"Erik! I'm sorry, I didn't uh, hear you coming," Margaret laughed, pulling her eyes from the briefcase. He was glaring at her almost, for reasons unknown to Margaret but she wouldn't let the intense stare from his bluish-grey eyes. "Where are you going, Erik?" Her tone was serious, but her eyes were emotionless as she watched the metal-bending mutant.

"I've gotten what I needed," Erik began. Margaret narrowed her eyes at him, before briefly looking down at the briefcase and then back again. "I don't need to be here." He sidestepped around her, surprised he didn't hear any arguments from her.

"I won't stop you, Erik," he heard as he came towards the end of the hallway. "But Charles will. I know him well enough to know how persuasive he can be."

Erik paused in his steps before glancing over his shoulder, only catching a glimpse of her figure as she turned down the hallway and disappeared around the corner again.

Even with the limited amount of communication between the two mutants, Margaret always managed to get on Erik Lehnsherr's nerves.

* * *

 _Oxford University, 1957._

Margaret typed furiously at her second-hand typewriter, sliding the platen across again when it dinged, before she continued typing again. Her mind was focused solely on finishing her assignment, after leaving it to the last minute as usual. She sighed as she slid the platen across again, sitting back in her chair for a rest.

A knock came from her door and she called for whoever was out there to come in. She let her head fall back and she stared with a smile at the upside-down figure at her door. Shirley walked in, hesitantly it seemed and she leaned against the doorframe lazily.

"Phone for you, Mags," she said. Margaret noted her quiet voice and sad eyes, and she shot out of her chair and brushed past her in the space of a few milliseconds. Something had happened, and her heart ached at the assumptions her mind was making up.

She found her way to the hall's shared telephone, staring at the dangling receiver before she found the courage to finally lift it up. She took a deep breath and held the phone to her ear, squeezing her eyes shut before she spoke.

"Hello?"

A whimper sounded from the other end of the line and she knew her assumptions were correct.

"Peggy, love?" Her mother was crying, her voice strained as she spoke on the other end of the call. Margaret shook her head softly, trying to force down the lump in her throat before she spoke again.

"Yeah, mum, it's me," she replied. She could hear her mother wipe her nose from where she stood and she inhaled deeply for the news she was about to hear.

"Peggy, darling, your dad isn't getting any better," her mother began, still crying. Margaret presumed it was the first time she had allowed herself to cry with someone else to witness it. Margaret's heart broke as she listened to her mother's strained words. "The doctor said that he might last the next two days. So, I said I'd get you down here as soon as possible."

She knew it was inevitable, but hearing it for the first time properly, had her heart breaking into a million pieces. Her father won't be around after the weekend was over? How would she function after Monday, how would she go back to college knowing her dad wasn't there to egg her on at the end of every week during their weekly phone calls?

"I'll be there, mum," Margaret promised. She felt the first tear slip down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly before anyone noticed. "I'll get the first train down. Don't you worry, I'll be there."

"Good girl," her mother whispered. "Good girl. Your dad promised he won't be going anywhere until he sees you. Just like him, aye?" Margaret smiled but that didn't stop the tears from spilling. She leaned her forehead against the wall as she listened to her mother sniffle from the other side of the call. "You just make sure you get down here safely, okay love? I'll see you soon."

"I'll see you, mum. I love you," Margaret said, feeling the first sob escape from her lips. Her shoulder shook as she cried against the wall, hearing her mother's own "I love you" come through the line before she bid her farewell and hung up the phone.

She stayed there for a brief moment, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed silently in the empty hallway. But she took a few deep breaths, wiped her face and stood up straight. She knew that the coming days would be tough for her, but she had to get there in one piece. So she inhaled in last time and exhaled softly before turning on her heel and making her way to her room to pack her things.

…

"Where's my little Pegs?" She heard her father say. Margaret pushed past the nurse and doctor crowding the doorway and threw her arms around her very frail-looking father. He let out a hearty laugh, running a hand over her hair and leaving a kiss on her cheek before she pulled away, displaying her tear-streaked face. "Oh, come on now, Peggy. None of that. You know I don't like seeing you cry."

"Sorry, dad," she smiled, wiping her face with the tissue she pulled from her pocket. "I was just so upset."

"I'm sorry, love," he said, wrapping a hand around hers. She chewed on her bottom lip as she sniffled and continued to wipe the tears from her face. "I never meant for this to happen."

"I know, dad. Don't blame yourself," she replied, squeezing his hand. Margaret moved to sit on the edge of his bed, noting his bald head and patting his head lightly. "You looked better with hair, dad. We should've gotten you a wig." Her father laughed loudly at her, shaking his shining head with an amused smile.

"I've never looked more handsome," her father retorted, earning a laugh from his eldest daughter. He was happy to see her, but he was happier to see she was still laughing even with the sadness he was bringing into his family's life at this time. "Did you come down here on your own?"

"Yeah, I came straight from the station. Maybe I should have rang mum, but I wanted to see you alone for a minute before the cavalry comes charging," she smiled. Her father nodded softly, his smile never leaving his face as he watched his daughter.

They continued to talk for the next few minutes, about college and about her social life. She managed to slip past the subject of Charles, since her father always had a soft spot for him and always had to wish that Margaret and him would get together. Margaret had always thought it was because her dad was aware of how wealthy Charles actually was, but her father had seen how the two acted around one another.

"Your mum is on her way up," her father said suddenly. Margaret furrowed her brow, looking at him oddly.

"And how could you possibly know that?" she asked, an amused smile now playing on her lips as she ate. She had robbed the sandwich her father didn't want to eat, and since she hadn't eaten her better judgment was overthrown by the need for food.

"I've noticed that the nurses all get this frightened look on their faces whenever she steps foot in the hospital," he said, laughing loudly as he seen her coming down the hospital corridor with his four other kids in tow. "The British are coming! The British are coming!"

"You're very lucky she didn't hear that," Margaret laughed, turning her eyes to the door when she seen her mother enter.

"Margaret! When did you get here? I thought you were coming to the house first," her mother said in a hurry. Margaret glanced at her father and they both shared an amused smile before Margaret turned again to her mother.

"I wanted to see dad alone first," she said, getting up off the bed and crossing her way over to the door where she hugged her mother tightly and kissed her cheek. "Hi, mum."

"Hello, love," her mother smiled, cupping her cheek before her mother moved to speak to her father.

"Hey, Pegs," her younger brother, Tommy, greeted. Margaret seen the look on his face. He was the only boy, so him and their father were especially close. They were even beginning to work together, Tommy becoming an apprentice to their father. But that came to an end when he got sicker.

"Hey, Tom," she smiled. She pulled her brother into a tight and long embrace, pressing a kiss to his cheek. They were close, Margaret and Tommy, but as he got older Margaret was finding it hard to keep up with her little brother.

Margaret's second youngest sister, Grace, moved straight to giving Margaret a hug. The thirteen year-old hadn't said a word to her, but she didn't need to. Grace had been sobbing since she had found out the news and Margaret could see it on her face when she finally pulled away. The younger girl looked up at Margaret, her round face red and her brown eyes red from crying. Margaret ran a hand over her face, ridding them of any extra tears before Grace moved away wordlessly.

Almost as if on cue, Margaret's youngest sister, Jane, leapt from the bed she was sitting on and crashed into Margaret's midsection.

"I missed you, Peggy," she mumbled into Margaret's skirt. Margaret glanced at her mother, where Jane had been sitting, as she gave her a knowing look. Her mother, Mary, managed a smile as she watched her youngest finally get to embrace her eldest.

"I missed you too, Janey," Margaret replied, bending down to become eye-level with the nine year-old. "I won't be going for a while, now, okay?"

"Okay," the young girl replied. The youngest York child looked exactly as Margaret did when she was her age, what with her large and brown eyes and thick lashes, button nose and high cheekbones. Even their lips had the same small upper-lip and fuller bottom one. Her siblings were very alike, but Margaret and Jane were a lot more alike than the others.

The family sat around together, all of them trying their hardest to ignore the fact that this would probably be the last time they'd be together as a full family ever again. Margaret returned to her cross-legged position at the end of her father's bed, Jane sitting in between her legs. Grace sat beside them, hugging her knees to her chest as she conversed with her father. Her mother sat in the uncomfortable leather chair to the side, and Thomas sat on the edge on their father's left side.

"It's always nice seeing us all together," her father said absentmindedly, after he finished speaking to Grace about her schooling. "It's hard now, what with Margaret away at college. I'm glad you made it down, love."

"You always told me to stay in Oxford and focus on my studies," Margaret replied, smiling softly. Their father chuckled lightly and nodded, looking to his wife.

"I know, I should've asked you to come down more often," her father said. Margaret ignore Jane who fiddled with her fingers, glancing up at her older sister from in between her legs. "But Thomas here, he's been working very hard in the shop. He's even better than you now, Margaret."

Margaret beamed proudly at her little brother, who glanced at her shyly. "Well done, little brother. Although, I wouldn't go that far. No one's as good as me," Margaret said, jutting her chin out with pride. Thomas rolled his eyes at her as their father laughed loudly, her mother sighing amusedly.

The air around them became more casual, and soon they were talking like normal. It was a nice feeling, for the whole family, a small piece of normal before their lives would be changed forever.

…

"Peggy, love." Margaret turned to face her father, reaching to the back of her neck to fix the collar of her coat. Her mother and siblings had left an hour prior but the nurses were putting their foot down, almost forcing Margaret to leave since it was well past visiting hours. "Come here for a minute. I want to tell you something before you go."

"What, dad?" She sat on his left side and rested her hand on his. His hands were still the same as she remembered, big and callous from working on engines. She was surprised to see them so clean, though, since he would usually have splotches of grease or car oil.

"I know what I'm putting you all through is… something I can never apologise enough for," her father began, coughing back the lump in his throat. "But I want you to know that I'm sorry. For everything I put you all through. I left you and your mother to care for the kids when you were young during the war and now I'm doing it all over again, but this time I won't be coming back." Margaret watched him carefully, but didn't interrupt him. "And I'm sorry. I wish I could do something to make this better, but I can't."

"You don't have to apologise to me, Dad. But maybe you should talk to mum, properly, before you go," Margaret managed after a heavy pause. She squeezed his hand before leaning down to hug him tightly, squeezing him before pulling away. "I love you."

"I love you too, love. So much, more than life itself," he said softly, moving forward to press a kiss to her forehead. She filed that feeling to memory, promising herself that she would never forget that feeling for as long as she lived. "Much more than that secret you're hiding too."

Now that caught her off guard.

"What secret?"

"Oh, Pegs, you really think you kept that secret hidden from me and your mother?" he said, a smile on his face. "You're mum was scared, she still is, but I told her not to do anything about it. I knew you could handle it and look at you, you went to university and all while being able to make things float." Margaret couldn't believe this. "Quite the accomplishment, my love."

"You could have said something," Margaret laughed. She couldn't believe what he was saying. He knew! All along! "And here I thought I was being so careful with it."

"We knew something happened when Janey was sent to hospital," her father said. Margaret looked down. "Don't blame yourself for that love, because Jane certainly doesn't. Neither does anyone else." She nodded softly and lifted her head to look at him. "You're friends, Charles and Raven?"

"What about them?" she asked.

"They're the same as you, aren't they?" After a moment of staring blankly at him, Margaret nodded to her father's question. "And did they help you? Control it, I mean?" Again, she nodded in response. "Well, tell them thank you from me. I've nothing to give them for helping my best girl but you tell them I'm eternally grateful for what they've done."

"Of course, dad," Margaret whispered, nodding quickly. "Of course I will." She turned and seen the Nurse at the door, tapping her watch with her pen. Margaret sighed and nodded to her, turning again to face her father. "I'll see you tomorrow, dad."

"I'll see you then, love," her father smiled, kissing her hand before she stood up again and making her way to the door. "And tell that Charles bloke one last thing for me, will you?" Margaret leaned against the door to listen to him, raising a brow at him. "Tell him he's an idiot for not marrying you!"

"Ugh, dad, just because you want to marry him doesn't mean I do," Margaret argued, scoffing as she turned on her heel and began to make her way down the corridor.

"That's a lie! You love him, Margaret Elizabeth York!"

"You're delusional, Patrick Michael York!" She could hear her father's hearty laughter from down the hall, a smile on her face as she skipped down the stairs to the exit.

…

Her father died two days after she arrived, on a Sunday.

Her mother was with him all night, laying with him until she heard his breathing stop. She hasn't stopped crying since.

Margaret's other relatives, mainly cousins and aunts and uncles from both sides made their way to give their condolences to the family but Margaret barely interacted properly with them. The funeral was coming up, and she was feeling numb.

They all gathered outside the church where the Mass was to take place. Margaret climbed out of the black car they rented, staring up at the large bell tower under the grey clouds. It was a bad day for a bad occasion, a fitting situation.

"I'll be in in a minute, mum," Margaret said, leaning against the car. Her mother nodded softly, grabbing Grace's and Jane's hands, while Thomas followed behind them with his head bowed. They looked like a sorry bunch, and Margaret needed a moment to herself.

She smiled at everyone that passed her, thanked those that gave their condolences but she waited a brief and quiet moment after they had all gone in. The Mass wouldn't start for a while, since they had to wait for the reverend to arrive and people to get their seats.

"Margaret?"

She couldn't turn fast enough. She turned away from the car and looked up at the large church doors, seeing none other than her favourite telepath coming down the stone steps.

She hadn't noticed she was holding her breath because when she exhaled, it came out as a sob as she finally broke down. She hadn't cried when she found out her father had died and she hadn't cried when she seen her family cry, she felt she needed to be the stronger one, just like Thomas did. The two siblings were far too similar, and Margaret was still yet to see Thomas cry over their father's passing.

She felt relief when Charles wrapped his arms around her, giving her a chance to break down for a moment before she had to face a crowd of sombre people without crying. Charles squeezed her tightly, rubbing her back while she sobbed onto his shoulder. After a moment, she pulled away and wiped her eyes, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes before looking at him for a long moment.

"What are you doing here? I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going," Margaret mumbled, shrugging her shoulders while she continued to wipe her face.

"Shirley told me. She told everyone, actually," Charles sighed. Margaret rolled her eyes but didn't complain, feeling too exhausted to rant about Shirley and her big mouth. "I couldn't let you go through this alone, Margaret. Neither could Raven, we both got the first train down as soon as we heard."

She pulled him in for another quick and tight embrace, smiling to herself. "Thank you, Charles. For everything."

"Don't thank me, love," he said. She pulled away and he took her hand in his. "I think it's time we head inside though, I seen your mum looking for you when you didn't follow her in after a while."

Margaret looked over his shoulder to stare at the church's doors, sighing softly. She looked at the telepath again and pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling softly when she stared at him again.

"I love you, Charles Xavier," she said softly, squeezing his hand before pulling away and making her way up the steps towards the church. He watched as she left him there, staring as she pulled open the doors and making her way inside.

Even though his curiosity was growing, he didn't look into her mind to see the context behind her sudden declaration. After realising he was still standing there, he made his way back towards the church doors and made his way inside, searching the crowd for the woman he was here for.

Raven caught his eye and he moved to sit next to her a few rows away from where he finally spotted Margaret sitting with her family. He watched silently as the Mass began, unaware of just how much Margaret had meant that "I love you".

…

"My dad was…. He was amazing." Margaret stood at the podium, holding a blank piece of paper in her hand. She was winging it. Her mother would kill her. "He always had something funny to say and he had a knack for making things better. It was a good gift to have, in my opinion. But, if there was one thing he was the best at it was being a father. As cliché as that sounds, he really was. He had so much love for his family, it amazed me because even when him and mum would argue over silly things, he'd always be the one to apologise. He's always be the one to make my mum laugh after an argument or make one of us kids laugh after a nightmare or a tumble. He brought light into the room whenever he walked in and he just made things _better_. He was incredible, I can't say it enough. I adore him, I will always adore my father. And I'm glad he'll never catch me saying this because he'd hold it against me, but he was always right. Always. About everything. He was right about me, about anything I was thinking about or feeling, he always knew what it is and he always had the right solution to it. But me, being the stubborn girl that I am, I won't follow that solution until the very last second.

"I'll miss my dad so much. And so will my siblings. They asked me to speak on their behalf, each deciding to give me a letter they wrote to say aloud. They're a shy bunch, the younger Yorks." The crowd chuckled softly as Margaret fished into the pocket in her dress and pulled out three, folded up pieces of paper.

"This first one is from Thomas." Margaret cleared her throat before she read aloud. "Dad. It's Thomas. I'm sure you know this already, but I love you. We all do. You just had a way of making people love you, I don't know what it is, but it's like a gift. You managed to make everyone like you no matter what, the same way Jane does. I suppose it skipped a couple of us, because Grace, Peggy and I aren't exactly the easiest to get along with. I think we got that from mum, but don't tell her I said that." Margaret looked up from the page briefly. "Sorry mum." The crowd laughed and their mother smiled, but Margaret continued. "But since Margaret has to read this out, I'll end it with this: I love you, dad. You don't know how grateful I am for everything you've done for us as a family and me, as a man. You got me a job. A career. And you thought me more than I could ever be grateful for, but I'll try to live the same way you did: with a smile on my face and love for my family. Thank you dad, I'll miss you forever. Love always, Thomas."

Margaret folded up Thomas's letter and unfolded the next one, smiling at the scribbling writing of her youngest sister. "This one is Janey's." She took a deep breath before she began reading from the page. "Dear dad, you're gone to heaven now. I don't really understand what happened to you, mum doesn't explain things really well and Peggy doesn't do medicine in school. I just know that I'll miss you when you're in heaven, and I'll see you when I get there too, hopefully when I'm as old as nana. It's weird but whenever anyone talks to me about you, I think about when I was in the hospital not when you were. You stayed with me every night while mum went home to make sure everyone got to school on time. You didn't go to work and we played games every day when I was in hospital. You even kept it a secret from mum when Peggy skipped school to visit me. We would eat sweets she'd buy on the way and play together all day until she had to go home. It was the best time. I wish we could go back to then. I wish you weren't in heaven, but I suppose everything will be okay in the end. That's what you kept saying and you're always right. I love you dad. Say hello to nana and grandad for me. Love, Jane."

Margaret wiped her eyes before she unfolded the last one, sighing when she seen how short Grace's was. "Dad, even though you promised you wouldn't go away again, you did. And even though I know you blame yourself for what happened, we don't. We never will. I don't have much to say in this since I said it to you before you died anyway, so I'll leave it here for now. I love you, dad. We'll see you soon. Love always and forever, your Grace."

Margaret peered out over the crowd and settled on her two friends. Raven struggled to keep herself together, breaking down beside Charles. He watched Margaret carefully, but she was happy to not feel him rooting through her brain. She inhaled deeply before she opened her mouth again to speak. "Thank you for listening to me. Mostly ramble, on my part and cry through those letters. I'm sure my dad would be so amazed to see how many people appreciated him as much as we did, I'm sure since you can't help it around him. But he asked me to give his thanks to someone. My friends, Charles and Raven. He knew in the end how you two helped me, and he was grateful, and he was sorry he couldn't thank you both in person for the amount of help you both gave me. I'll end it here though, I think I've talked enough. But, dad? If you're listening to me, which I hope you are, I'll miss you. More than anyone would ever know. You were my rock and now, I have to be my own. But you taught me so well, I'm sure I'll be okay. We'll all be okay, so don't worry and just have fun up there and get things ready for when we meet you again. I love you, dad. I'll see you."

* * *

 **This ended up being a lot longer than I meant it to be. But sure shit happens and I enjoyed writing the family bits.**

 **Please review this! I'd appreciate it!**


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